Predominately shimmering and languid, at its raciest Divine Operating System achieves a poppy, disco canter that trades ass-slapping soul for sleek sensuality. [Sep 2002, p.104]

A boring reminder of past work. [Dec 2005, p.104]

Like many bands before them who similarly created magic with their debut albums, this Brooklyn trio can't quite harness the same level of energy for their sophomore effort.

Nomad is ambient music for beatheads in need of a record to clear their minds to, or dance music for new age lovers.

NY's Finest shows glimmers of what Rock can do, but it's unfortunate the album came out before Soul Brotha #1 was warmed up.

There's only so many times the melodic power chords of guitarist Mike Stroud can graze the quarantined beats of programmer Evan Mast before the combination begins to rust. [Sep 2006, p.142]

With the first release, Chemistry, you would think some experimentalism was going on--but it isn’t. That’s not necessarily a bad quality, but the lack of daring pushes this release into the mediocre pile.

Pennington’s soaring, Rufus Wainwright-esque croon may be the most distinctive element of the record but also one of its greatest weakness.

With many songs over four minutes and often consisting of blantantly stoned self-indulgent "jams," some trimming is needed.

M.I.A.'s schizophrenic style does not please this time around. The industrial and mechanical soundscape lacks both genuine protest songs or club jams.

Sure, she may not have as many debauchery-tainted demons to exercise as the Winehouses or the Holidays but that doesn't make 19 boring. [Jul/Aug 2008, p.88]

Surfing The Void unfortunately isn't a break-through or even a repeat of the past success.

While it misses the suicidal rush of imminent destruction, Evil Heat still sounds dangerously rash. [Jan 2003, p.76]

A few tracks bump, but for the most part, Lord Jamar's production couldn't make punks jump up, much less get beat down. [Sep 2004, p.114]

The tactic [of increased vocals] hits and misses, as the album's standout tracks owe their success to the crew's innovative and polished production, not their lyrical prowess. [Jul/Aug 2005, p.104]

Jel's cagey, chunky breaks interlace into stereoscopic head-nodding noir. [Mar 2006, p.113]

The album engages after repeats, but initially offers volume's immediacy over intimacy.

Their micro-programmed folk has worn thin due to imitators. [Jul/Aug 2005, p.107]

Superfluous, the extra weight drains the raw intensity of the Furnaces’ famed live show and often leaves Remember sounding like a cheaply recorded album, rather than a live celebration.

Unfortunately, after six mightily exciting originals, the disc wanders into remix territory.

Black Dice continues to produce highly interesting music, no doubt, but be warned that it’s not for the faint of heart or imagination.

A failed merger of trip-hop's smoky grooves and psychedelic rock's galactic textures. [Mar 2003, p.94]

With partner Panda One, they unleash a concoction of soul, electronica and disco that’s occasionally bizarre, but consistently funky.

Tongues is a shorter, tighter set of songs that retains the pair's reckless spirit of improvisation and experimentation. [Apr 2007, p.104]

The Saints' talent seems lost in the mix as they fall victim to their signature technique and sound. [Sep 2001, p.154]

The fractious tension producer [Barlow] normally whips up to counter [Rhodes] is almost completely absent, thus allowing the run of tracks to discreetly slide off into the background. [Mar 2004, p.110]

No one can deny the Los Angeles group's enthusiasm. However as for Mika Miko's album, their creativity seems numbed by monotonous repetition.

Berlin's long-running tendency toward grit-glitz, which musicians from Bowie to Peaches have channeled in their work, is the inspiration for this fourth record of functional fun.